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I am not so rash as to ask at
once whether I may realize them."
"My faith, but that is prudent," said she, tartly.
"Of course."
It was his self-possession that exasperated her; for after that she
walked the short remainder of the way in silence, and so, for the
moment, the matter was left just there.
But that night, after they had supped, it chanced that when Climene
was about to retire, he and she were alone together in the room
abovestairs that her father kept exclusively for his company. The
Binet Troupe, you see, was rising in the world.
As Climene now rose to withdraw for the night, Scaramouche rose
with her to light her candle. Holding it in her left hand, she
offered him her right, a long, tapering, white hand at the end of
a softly rounded arm that was bare to the elbow.
"Good-night, Scaramouche," she said, but so softly, so tenderly,
that he caught his breath, and stood conning her, his dark eyes
aglow.
Thus a moment, then he took the tips of her fingers in his grasp,
and bowing over the hand, pressed his lips upon it.


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